


The Morning After

by Kiraly



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: (probably), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Figuring Out What The Heck Happened Last Night, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 20:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8859763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiraly/pseuds/Kiraly
Summary: Emil wakes up in an unfamiliar room. His memories of last night are...fuzzy. Fortunately, he has his friends to fill him in on what happened.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A thousand thanks to Elleth for encouraging me in this silly idea (I'm fairly sure at least some of these lines were yours!) and for beta-reading. 
> 
> Rated teen for language, drinking, and implied sex.

“Owww. My  _ head.”  _

Emil squinted against the sun streaming in the window. There shouldn’t have been so much light—he always slept with the curtains closed.  _ Wait. Where am I?  _ He wasn’t in his bed; he was lying on his side, on a couch, and there was a glass of water in front of his face. Someone had left a helpful note stuck to it:  _ Drink Me.  _

With a groan, Emil hauled himself into an upright position, grateful to note that at least he was wearing pants. He managed to get the glass to his lips with only minimal spillage. The cool liquid soothed his throat— _ ugh, did I throw up last night? My mouth tastes like something died in it— _ but it didn’t do anything for his pounding headache or queasy stomach.  _ Coffee. Coffee and pain meds.  _ He was just about to see if his legs could support his weight when a familiar face appeared in the doorway.

“Goooood morning! How’s my little Viking today?”

“Ugh! Sigrun, you don’t have to be so loud!” His grumbling did nothing to diminish the grin on her face. If anything, it seemed to grow wider the longer she looked at him. Now that he saw her, some of last night started to filter back.  _ This is Sigrun’s couch. We came to Sigrun’s house, to celebrate her promotion, and— _

* * *

 

Sigrun grinned, holding two full bottles in each hand. She slung one arm around Emil and another around Mikkel. “Tonight we celebrate, boys! Drink up, you need to loosen up once in a while!” Emil shook his head.

“I don’t  _ need  _ to loosen up, Sigrun! I’m fine. And every time you get me drunk, I wake up with something weird drawn on me, or my head in a toilet, or not wearing pants—”

Mikkel had only smiled.

* * *

 

Sigrun smirked, leaned against the doorframe. She was fully dressed and didn’t seem any worse for whatever had happened last night. Then again, she never did. “I see you’re looking bright-eyed and bushy-haired,” she said. “Wait, sorry, I meant bushy- _ tailed—” _

Emil’s hand flew to his hair. It was disheveled from sleeping on the couch, but it all still seemed to be there. Though why he should be worried about that— _ oh. Right. _

* * *

 

Sigrun tousled his hair and shoved a glass in front of him. “What, are you afraid something bad’s gonna happen? Worried I’ll cut off those shiny golden locks while you’re passed out?”

“No! I’m just...being cautious. It’s called drinking responsibly, Sigrun.”

Sigrun laughed so hard she nearly fell off the couch. Emil swiped the glass and crossed the room to sit with Lalli. “At least  _ you  _ don’t pull any pranks when I’ve been drinking, Lalli. You’re the only one I can count on.” 

“You can count on me too!” Reynir came to join them, clutching his braid and glancing nervously in Sigrun’s direction. “I promise I won’t do anything to you, even if you fall asleep. And I won’t let them do anything to you, either! Cutting people’s hair when they’re drunk is just  _ mean. _ ”

“And you know this because…?” That was Tuuri, sidling over with a drink in each hand.

Reynir gave her a ‘sad puppy’ look, but he took the drink she offered and said, “Winters get really boring in Iceland, okay?”

* * *

 

Satisfied that his hair hadn’t sustained any permanent damage, Emil turned to more important matters. “Sigrun, my head feels like it’s going to explode. It’s too early for hair jokes.” He staggered to his feet. “Please tell me you have coffee somewhere.”

“Did someone say coffee?” Tuuri poked her head into the room. Her hair was sticking out in all directions, and she looked as tired as he was. She smiled absently at Sigrun, but when she turned to Emil, her lips twitched into a smirk. “Heeee. Good morning.”

“Good...morning?” Tuuri’s greeting was far too cheerful for how early it was. Or how hungover he was, one or the other. “What are you so happy about?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just gearing up to  _ face  _ a brand new day. Now...how about that coffee?”

Definitely suspicious. Clearly, something had happened last night. If only he could remember what it was.

As they followed Sigrun to the kitchen, he tried to see if he could get Tuuri to tell him. “So...last night...sure was something, wasn’t it?”

“Sure was,” she replied, bumping her shoulder against his arm. “I’m surprised you’re putting on such a brave  _ face  _ this morning, you were pretty out of it.”

“Heh. Well, I...wait. Is there something wrong with my—”

“Mikkel! Three coffees!” Sigrun’s shout sent another jolt of pain through Emil’s head.

Mikkel wiped his hands on a towel and continued stirring something in a pan on the stove. “Sigrun, I told you, you’re not allowed any more coffee.”

“I can handle it!”

“The rest of us can’t handle  _ you _ .”

“And anyway, it’s not for me!” Sigrun made a sweeping gesture to indicate Emil and Tuuri standing behind her. “Don’t these poor souls look like they need some magic bean water after all the fun we had last night?

Mikkel raised an eyebrow. “There are two of them, Sigrun. Who’s the third coffee for?”

Sigrun rolled her eyes. “Freckles, obviously! Just as soon as I find him.” She strode out. Tuuri pushed past Emil to claim a coffee mug from Mikkel. When Emil reached for the other, Mikkel held it back.

“Not so fast. Are you sure you’re in any shape to be drinking this? Last night you were quite concerned for your health.”

Emil blinked. “What are you talking about?” 

Tuuri choked into her coffee. “You don’t remember?”

* * *

 

Mikkel turned Emil’s face to the side, prodding his cheek with a blunt finger. “Well, it doesn’t look bad yet, but you should keep an eye on it. You never know when these things will get worse.”

Emil pulled out of Mikkel’s reach. “Come on, this face cancer joke is so old! Everyone knows it’s not real!”

Still, he couldn’t help touching his face where Mikkel had prodded it. Was that spot a little more tender than the rest? No, that was the paranoia talking. He shook his head and took another drink. He wasn’t going to fall for that again.

* * *

 

But from the way Mikkel and Tuuri were both eyeing him, he must have fallen for  _ something.  _ Maybe it would be best to just admit it and see if they’d confess.

“No, sorry. Some parts of last night are a little hazy. Did Mikkel diagnose me with anything new this time? Ear fungus? Knee pox? Or just face cancer again?”

Tuuri snickered. Mikkel remained impassive, but he passed over the coffee. “No new diagnoses here. You have enough problems  _ facing  _ you without my adding to them.”

“Facing...okay, what is with the face comments today? Is there something—did you—” 

Tuuri doubled over laughing. Mikkel’s mouth twitched. And from the kitchen door, Reynir said, “Oh no! What happened to your face?”

* * *

 

“So everyone’s good with the plan, right?” Emil looked from Lalli to Reynir, ignoring the way Tuuri rolled her eyes. “If I start to get too out of it, you will…?”

“Put you in a quiet room by yourself, roll you onto your side, and  _ not  _ let anyone in!” Reynir said. Lalli didn’t say anything, but he nodded absently. It would have to be good enough.

“Right. And if I start to get paranoid—”

“A little late for that, isn’t it?” Tuuri said. “Come on, we’re your friends. It kind of hurts to know you don’t trust us.”

* * *

 

Reynir clapped his hands to his mouth. “Oh no.”

Given how disheveled Reynir looked, that was not a good sign. His hair ran wild, escaping from the remnants of his braid in a riot of curls. He was wearing a bathrobe that was a little too short for him, and only one sock. So if he thought  _ Emil  _ looked bad, then—

“I need to see a mirror. Right now.”

* * *

 

“Yer...such a gooood frien’, Reynir! The besht, mosht besht...guy. Pal. A real stand-up-up-standing—”

“Okay, Emil, time to lie down.” Reynir staggered a little—he was really too tall to walk easily with Emil’s arm around his shoulders. “A little help, Lalli?”

Lalli looked more like he’d rather just keep watching, but he eased under Emil’s other arm to help bear the load. Emil leaned his head on the Finn’s bony shoulder.

“An Lalllliiii, you...youuuuu are pretty. Did you know you’re...you’re…” Emil’s words devolved into giggles. Lalli sighed and Reynir blushed, but they got him to the couch and helped him tuck his legs up when Emil couldn’t figure it out on his own. Lalli retreated; Reynir stayed to turn Emil on his side and cover him with a blanket. 

“You’ll be just fine now,” Reynir said. He turned to Tuuri, who’d been watching the proceedings from the door. “He will be, right? He just needs to sleep it off?”

Tuuri took him by the hand and led him from the room. “Sure. He’ll be fine.”

* * *

 

“What did you people do to my face?!”

Emil stared into the mirror, horrified. This was  _ so  _ much worse than face cancer. At least bandages came off easily. “Please tell me you didn’t use permanent markers.”

“Of course we did, what else would we have used?” Sigrun said. Her grin glinted in the mirror. “It’s no fun if it just comes right off.”

“But you drew  _ dicks  _ on my face!”

“Hey, it wasn’t  _ just  _ me,” Sigrun said. “I mean, obviously the most best ones were drawn by me. Like that one, isn’t it beautiful?” She flicked Emil’s cheek, and he shied away.

“Eww, don’t touch it!”

“Oh come on, it’s ink! And it’s not even like it’s realistic. That one Mikkel drew could come from a textbook. Look, it even has the parts labeled!”

Emil had been trying not to look at that particular masterpiece, but there weren’t many parts of his face he  _ could  _ look at right now. They’d done a thorough job. Between Mikkel’s anatomical diagram, Sigrun’s enthusiastic—and optimistic, judging from some of the proportions—offerings, and those other ones that were weirdly…adorable?

“Does this one have a  _ smiley face  _ on it?”

Tuuri shrugged. “I wanted to show it was happy!” At Emil’s glare, she added, “You know...because you’re gay, and it’s a...okay, it seemed funnier last night when I was drunk, all right?”

Emil buried his head in his hands. Then pulled them away like they’d been burned, remembering what his face looked like at the moment. He ignored Tuuri’s stifled giggle and turned his attention to someone who had been a little too quiet. “So what about you? Which ones are your handiwork, Reynir?”

“Me?!” Reynir’s face turned red enough to rival his hair. “I didn’t draw anything on you! I put you on the couch in a quiet room like you asked me to, that was all! And there definitely weren’t any drawings on your face then. I swear!” 

“Well if you did what I asked, then how did this happen?”

* * *

 

Things got hazy after Reynir left. Emil remembered feeling lonely. Or sick. Maybe those were the same feeling? He didn’t want to be by himself, not when his friends were having fun. Plus it was far too warm in the little room. He’d already lost his shirt sometime during the evening; maybe he’d forgotten to put it back on after Sigrun wrestled him. Or he’d spilled a drink on it. Events blurred together, and he wasn’t completely sure some of them had actually happened. But that was all right; he didn’t need to sort it all out right now. He knew how to fix his biggest problem. It was just a matter of mustering his coordination. A tricky business, but after a lot of fumbling and swearing, his pants hit the floor.  _ So much better. My legs are free!  _

That was the last coherent thought for some time. When he came to again, there was a person standing over him. “Oh. Heyyyy, it’s you.”

The familiar figure smiled and held out a marker.

———— 

“Your face looked just fine when I left you!”

Emil narrowed his eyes. “Then why do you look so guilty, Reynir? There’s something you’re not telling me.”

He hadn’t thought it was possible for Reynir to blush any harder. He’d been wrong.

“It’s just...you know, there was a lot going on, I might have gotten a  _ little  _ distracted and maybe left the door unguarded for a while…”

“Distracted?” Emil assessed Reynir again—rumpled robe, wild hair, crimson face—and turned to glare at the others. “What did you do to him?”

Sigrun’s smirk didn’t change. “I didn’t do anything! The last time I saw Freckles was when he hauled your sorry ass away to sleep it off. He wasn’t around for our little art session.” She tapped her chin. “Of course, I  _ did  _ find him passed out naked in one of the guest bedrooms just now, so…”

“I wasn’t...I didn’t—” Reynir stammered.

“And someone else was mysteriously absent for a while last night,” Mikkel chimed in, glancing down at Tuuri. She turned pink and smoothed her hair.

Emil blinked. “Waaaait. You two...did you—?”

Tuuri smiled, shrugged, and bumped her hip against Reynir’s leg. He jumped. “Sure,” Tuuri said, “I don’t know what you’re making such a big deal about. I did  _ tell  _ you I was going to make a move. Or did you forget that, too?”

“Yes, but I didn’t realize you meant  _ last night!  _ And—what are you giggling about?”

She covered her mouth. “I’m sorry, it’s just so hard to take you seriously with those drawings all over your face!”

_ That’s the last straw.  _ “Okay, all of you get out of here  _ right now.”  _ Emil shoved his friends toward the bathroom door, doing his best to ignore their muffled laughter. “I’m going to  _ try  _ to get this crap off my face, and then  _ maybe  _ one of you will find the decency to apologize!”

For some reason, that just made Sigrun laugh harder. “Looks like you should have drawn more smiley faces, Fuzzy-head, he doesn’t sound happy!”

“Maybe I should have drawn one on his actual—”

“OUT!” Emil slammed the door behind them. “And you’d better have something good for breakfast when I get done!”

The laughter retreated. Emil kicked the door—and immediately regretted it, because it  _ hurt _ —and rummaged in the cabinet for a towel. Ten minutes of scouring got the worst of the marks off his face, even if it left his skin red and raw. Also, he was becoming aware that the rest of him could probably use a wash, too. He loosened the drawstring on his pants, but stopped, fingers frozen.  _ I wasn’t wearing these pants last night. When did I put them on?  _ No convenient memory surfaced to fill in the gap. So he shook his head and let the fabric fall to the ground. Then he looked down.

“What the HELL?”

He’d thought he’d gotten all the marker off of him, but there was more. Not drawings, but words, stretching across his hips and—as a look in the mirror behind him showed—repeated over his ass. And he couldn’t blame these on any of the people he’d just kicked out of the bathroom.

“I can’t believe he would—” something rustled in the shower. Emil froze, reached for the curtain—then paused to pull his pants back on. Then he flung the shower curtain aside and glared at the occupant. “What are you  _ doing  _ in there?”

Lalli blinked up at him. “Sleeping. It was quiet, until everyone came in.” He peered at Emil’s face. “Did someone draw on you?”

“Did someone—! Lalli, I  _ trusted  _ you! And then I wake up and find this,” he gestured to his waist, where the tops of the letters could be seen poking up from his waistband:  _ Property of Lalli Hotakainen.  _

Lalli smirked. “Oh, right. That.”

“Why would you do that?” Emil cried. “I mean, I expected everyone else to try to draw on me if I passed out, but not  _ you.”  _

“Wanted to make sure no one else would mess with you,” Lalli said. He rested his elbows on the side of the tub. “You were lying on the floor without pants on.  _ Someone  _ would have done it.”

“But you didn’t have to—”

“And I wanted you to remember,” Lalli added. He stood, carefully bracing himself against the wall. He stretched out a hand and tugged Emil’s drawstring. “Since you were drunk enough to forget.”

* * *

 

“You’re soooooo pretty. Did I tell you you’re...you’re...I just like to look at your face. And hair, and...” he giggled, and whispered, “your ass.” Emil tried to snuggle closer, but Lalli pushed him away. 

“You’re drunk, Emil.”

“Noooo. Not...well. Maybe a little. But Lalli—”

“Emil.”

“Lalli I wanna  _ kiss  _ you. Like, onnnnn your face. An’ your hair. An’ your—”

“No.”

Emil pouted, but Lalli held firm. “ _ No _ , Emil. We made a deal, remember? Nothing happens when either of us is drunk.” He pushed a strand of hair out of Emil’s eyes. “Even if we really want to.”

“But Lalllllliiii….”

“Emil…”

“What if I forget? You know I’m abs...asbent...absent-mindededed.” He pillowed his head on his arms, since Lalli wouldn’t let himself be used as a pillow.  _ Meanie. I just want to cuddle! And kiss. And maybe— _

Lalli sighed and uncapped the marker he’d been fidgeting with. “You know what? Fine. I’ll write you a note. You definitely won’t forget now.” 

* * *

 

Emil swallowed hard. “Oh. Right. I did say...a lot of things last night, didn’t I?” By which he meant he’d been utterly shameless, and very specific about the things he’d like to do with Lalli. He was surprised Lalli hadn’t just stalked away in disgust.

“You did.” Lalli leaned closer. “Now that you’re...better...do you still mean it?”

Emil met his gaze, and for the first time all morning he felt like something was actually going right. “Yeah. I do.” He took a step forward, reached up to cup Lalli’s face in his hands. “So...now that I’m sober...can I?”

Instead of replying, Lalli kissed him. 

After a while they broke apart, though Emil kept his fingers twined in Lalli’s hair. Lalli ran his hands down Emil’s back. “Say, Emil…” 

“Mmm?” It was hard to focus with Lalli’s mouth so close to his. A little like being drunk again, but so much better.

“Do you need any help getting that marker off?”


End file.
